Endings to poems that tap it into an open goal seem to me far less interesting than ones that bend it into the top corner when the keeper wasn't even expecting a shot.
The book knows that, just like humans, it's destined to be born and die alone. But it also knows (again, just like humans) that it would far prefer to be accompanied in the meantime.
The book trembles with anticipation when the poet finally places it in an envelope and heads for the post office, launching it on a journey to its reader, though that's nothing in comparison to the feeling of being held at last, its pages caressed and maybe even folded back if one or two of the poems really hit home...
I'm very grateful to Maurice Devitt at the Irish Centre for Poetry Studies for posting my poem, ‘Heading for the Airport’, on their Facebook page (see here). I gather it's now garnered over 22,000 views and more than 270 likes. Who said there's no latent readership for poetry...?!
Many poets seem to leave their book behind as soon as it's published, but at that point I feel I'm only just getting to know it.
First of all, the reviews it receives (if the poet's lucky!), provide an excellent sounding board. Which poems do reviewers highlight? What elements are cast into doubt? And secondly, what about the readers who buy the collection? These days, they often select a favourite poem or two from the book and post them on social media. Which ones are chosen? And thirdly, the poems that the poet might also decide to share. Which generate most traction? Which are most popular? Which garner most sales of the book? And then there are in-person readings. As mentioned previously on here, those events enable the poet to explore their collection again, to test which poems go down best in person, and which appear to disappoint.
And finally, the poet often benefits from time to weigh up all this feedback, to gauge it, to avoid dramatic, knee-jerk reactions to it, to compare and contrast it, to consider how it might (or might not!) contribute to the writing of their next collection. Of course, none of this process is possible if they turn their back on the book and immediately embark on another creative project as soon as a copy reaches their hands. The seemingly fallow period that follows publication is, in my view, a necessary pause, a pause that may be filled by the satisfaction of engaging with readers.
With no access to slots at major festivals, no wholesaler, no chance to get copies on shelves at physical bookshops, no distribution in the U.S. or Canada, no realistic retail prices on Amazon, no reviews in broadsheets or major print-based journals, Nell (at HappenStance) and I have now shifted going on for 250 copies of Whatever You Do, Just Don't. And I'm determined to ensure there will be plenty more sales of it to come over the next few years.
In this context, I'm inevitably left wondering just how many I'd have sold with any of the external commercial support network I've mentioned above. And, given that many significantly funded poetry publishers (who do have this sort of backing) have stated their average sales of full collections barely reach three figures, why aren't they flogging far more copies than me instead of far fewer...?
